For many months, notwithstanding Philip's expressed desire that things should be done as economically as possible, the preparations for the voyage had been carried out on a scale of magnificence surpassing that of all previous bridal progresses between Spain and France. The Spanish nobles and courtiers, taking their tone from Haro himself, were determined, even at the cost of their last ducat, that the Frenchmen should see that the country was neither exhausted materially nor humiliated morally. So again the old prodigal pride asserted itself, and Madrid pushed its poverty in the background, as it spent its money on gew-gaws, or flocked to see the preliminary turnout of the royal equipages prepared for the King's journey to France.
"There were four litters, and fourteen coaches with six mules each;—a fine sight! The table services, newly made with the arms of Spain and France, which her Highness is to take with her, are a marvel of richness and beauty. The jewels for presents and for adornment exceed all price and praise. Each of the gentlemen who is to accompany the royal party is making preparations more in accordance with his spirit than with his means. They say that the Duke of Medina de las Torres will distinguish himself specially. He gives five suits of livery to each of his servants, one set alone of which made in Naples will cost 65,000 ducats; whilst, as to his Excellency's own dresses, wonderful stories are told of them, and also of the jewels he is taking with him, worthy as they are of the greatness of his heart. The preparations of Don Luis de Haro can only be conceived by those who recollect that he is the luminary of the world upon which reflects and radiates most fully the majesty and brilliancy of our Sun-Monarch. The value of the horses and hackneys, with their harness and housings, alone are said to be worth a vast treasure; but when we consider the rank of the persons with whom the horses of the Sun will enter Irun, these latter, richly caparisoned as they may be, will be unworthy of an occasion so supreme. It is likely enough that when our Infanta took leave of the altars of Madrid her eyes were wet with tears; but our muffled women, who spare nobody, said so in such a way as to hint that the tears were really hearty smiles. The Queen looks very sad at the King's going away."[[28]]
Journey to the frontier
On the 15th April 1660, Philip set forth on his famous journey to the French frontier to give his daughter Maria Teresa to his young nephew Louis XIV. for his wife, and meet in peace once more his sister Anna, whom he had not seen since their early youth, over forty years before. The train that accompanied him surpassed anything of the sort ever seen before in Spain. Don Luis de Haro himself was served by a household of 200 persons, and scores of other nobles vied with him in magnificence.[[29]] All the sumptuary pragmatics were suspended, and as a reaction after the long insistence upon plain, sombre attire for men, Philip's courtiers were gorgeous in the costly richness of their garb, determined as they were to impress the Frenchmen.
The land through which the long procession slowly made its way, at the rate of about six miles a day, was stark and ruined; and provisions, as well as beds and all other necessaries, had to be carried for the whole multitude, the cavalcade covering over twenty miles of road. Such of the wretched peasants as were left in Castile[[30]] saluted their King with frantic joy as he passed; for he looked so sad and sorry for them, and with so much wealth as he now displayed before their famished eyes, surely he would not grind them down to utter famine as he had done for these unhappy years of strife. All would be well now. The Infanta was to be Queen of France, and she would not allow her father's realm to be laid desolate again by those over whom her young husband reigned. Everywhere hope blossomed again. The towns on the way regaled the vast concourse of courtiers with shows, banquets, and bull-fights; long-hidden hoards of money were brought out and spent in rejoicing now, even by the humbler farmer folk, for the great fear that all would be taken from them by the tax farmers had passed away. At length, after six weeks of tedious travel over miserable roads, where overturns and other mishaps were frequent, the King and his Court entered St. Sebastian, where the first marriage ceremony was to be performed, on the 2nd June 1660. In the crowds of splendidly apparelled Spanish courtiers, whose names were as resounding as their pedigrees were long, there was one olive-skinned man, with a touzled mop of wavy black hair streaked with grey, whose fame was to outlive them all. His office, that of the King's quarter-master, and one of his chamberlains, kept him close to the person of Philip, who loved his company. Upon the breast of his dark, closely fitting tunic was embroidered in scarlet the long sword-shaped cross of Santiago, whilst an enamelled and diamond pendant hung from a rich gold chain around his neck; and Diego Velazquez, the painter, now growing old with his master, looked as distinguished as any in the throng, doing his courtier's service in the famous journey as if he had been merely a grandee of long lineage instead of a poor gentleman who happened to be a genius.[[31]]
All the magnificence that could be crammed into the humble town of St. Sebastian was there on the morning of the 2nd June 1660.[[32]] In the principal house, under canopies of damask stiff with bullion armorial embroideries, sat upon thrones side by side Philip and his daughter, the Patriarch of the Indies and the Bishop of Pamplona standing in their robes near to them, with Haro upon the steps of the dais. Every inch of standing room was filled with the proudest nobles of Spain, intermingled with many masked and cloaked figures whom all knew or guessed were French princes, princesses, and nobles, who had crossed the frontier disguised to witness the ceremonies which some still hoped, notwithstanding the failures of past similar attempts, would "level the Pyrenees." One who was there writes: "The ladies-in-waiting were dazzlingly handsome, and all the multitude of people, grandees, peers, noble gentlemen, and others, stood with uncovered heads, their Majesties alone being seated; whilst Don Fernando de Contreras, the Secretary of State, read aloud the solemn document in which the Queen of France, by oath on a Christ crucified, renounced for herself and hers for ever all claim to the succession of the Spanish throne." For a long hour and more the Secretary of State, on his knees, read the pompous sentences of the act which was in after years to convulse all Europe in war, and change the dynasty of Spain; but those who listened to it were more concerned with their own fatigue at standing in a crowd so long than at the vast import of the renunciation, whose effects were hidden in the womb of time.[[33]] When, at last, Contreras had finished reading, the Bishop stepped forth, and upon the Gospels and the crucifix Maria Teresa swore to keep inviolate the pledge contained in the act.
The wedding